This week I tried some of the strategies that I had written about for dealing with defiant students.  I'm happy to report that I had a moderate amount of success.   Chief Sitting Bull, the 2nd grader who refuses to budge when asked to go to time out, came into class and immediately started clowning around.  I walked over to him, got down on his level and told him sotto voce that he needed to stop what he was doing.   It didn't work  He continued to clown around and the wind went out of my sails.  I wanted instant success.  I glared at him.  He kept on doing his John Cleese Ministry of Silly Walks routine. . I went over again and very quietly told him to go to the time out chair until he could stop his shenanigans.  He walked around the room for a few seconds, so I counted silently to 10 in Japanese and waited to see what he would do.  We stared at each other like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday seeing who would blink first.  Finally he walked over to the time out desk and sat down.  I turned around and resumed what I was doing. After a few minutes he joined the class.  I nodded and beckoned him over to sit by me and he joined in the activity.  

Next we went to the instruments to hammer out the parts to Let Us Chase the Squirrel.  I noticed that Michael was using his mallets correctly.  Hooray!  I finally found something he was doing the right way so I made sure to praise him out loud.  He smiled and every time I looked at him, he was on task.  I made sure to praise him a few more times and then I noticed he was trying to help one of the special ed students hold his mallet scorrectly.   I thought that was really great and thanked him.

When it was time to leave, I told Michael that he could carry out the Super Job note I give to classes when they don't destroy any property or maim each other.  The class left and I trailed up behind them to use the restroom, one of the two reasons I ever come above ground level.  (The other is to fetch my lunch from the PE refrigerator. If it weren't for those two important bodily functions, no one would ever see me.  I guess that's why teachers refer to me as "The Mole." ) Enroute to the refrigerator I saw Michael run up to the PE parapro and say, "Ms. Jove let me hold the paper.  That's now my job."  He was incredibly proud of himself, and the parapro, a wonderful, kind and patient woman, said, "See what happens when you behave well?"

 But just because it worked this week, doesn't mean it's a guaranteed success.  We have some fifth graders whom are going to be a greater challenge.  The other day they trashed the art room.  The art teacher found the metal parts of rulers bent into claws, an act that takes considerable strength and determination.  All of her prep work that had been stowed neatly behind a desk was thrown on the floor.  A child had left the room unnoticed and returned with half of his hair painted red and when questioned about the paint said, "I didn't steal any paint.  I brought it from home," begging the larger questions "How the hell did you leave the room unnoticed for 10 minutes and why on earth would you need to bring red paint to school?"  And never mind the fact that there was a can of red paint, open, dripping onto a desk in the back of the room.  Hmmm. The art teacher broke down and cried for 20 minutes.

 My turn will be next week.  Maybe I need to paint my hair, too.